


Ghosting / Phan fic

by Snazzy Jacket (BubblegumDays)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Phan - Freeform, how does one 'tag'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 23:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16074014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblegumDays/pseuds/Snazzy%20Jacket
Summary: I got bored and made this 'lil oneshot type thing...





	Ghosting / Phan fic

A brisk icy breeze swept across the almost desolate streets lit in a dim orange hue by overhanging victorian era modelled street lights illuminating the path for the occasional drunk and a hooded figure clutching a colourful bouquet of various flowers in his left hand and staring at his worn shoes as he walked as if he either knew where he was going off by heart or just didn't care where he would end up.

Small droplets of rain that drizzled from the sky gradually evolved into a downpour of the stuff, masking the tears of which had found themselves sliding down the mans cheek and dropping off to an unknown fate and causing the flowers to slack and ruin yet instead of disposing of them he remained determined to deliver them to whoever or wherever they were initially intended for.

He drew to a close at a large metal barred gate locked by a chain and padlock forbidding anyone for entering at such an hour, but that didn't seem to faze him as he began to climb the wall to the side of it as if he'd done so many times before and jumping off the other side without a care for his own safety, getting to his feet meer seconds later and continuing his planned route past hundreds of engraved tombstones varying in shapes, sizes and age.

A specific one caught his eye causing his pace to slow as he approached. To anyone else, it was just another grave among hundreds more but to him, it was the one that mattered most which was made even clearer as he carefully sat down in front of it as more tears spilt from his eyes onto the dark material of his hoodie.

The stone read in neatly carved letters ' _Here lies Philip Michael Lester 30 January 1987 - 14 November 2019_ ' A framed picture of a man with a black quiff, ocean blue eyes, unusually pale skin and an expression on his face that was one of love and pure happiness for what was most likely the person taking said picture.

The man smiled a little at the picture, reminiscing on better times as he took down the hood over his head, despite it still pouring it down with rain, revealing messy, unkept chocolate brown hair and a tired face with a mind wishing for more time with someone who was gone forever.

"I love you"Phil's last words to him echoed through his head like a broken record remembering that day in a dull hospital room when the life visibly left his eyes, his grip on his hand going slack and the deafening tone of the heart rate monitor going flat.

"I love you too..." He had whispered a little too late which had haunted him every waking moment for the last eternity-like months as he wished he had done more despite the obvious fact of there being no more he could have done to prevent his eventual passing.

"Hi Phil..." He said with none of the usual anxiety he would have had of sounding crazy due to no one being around "I miss you more than you could ever imagine." More tears began flowing down his face as he remembered all the little things he had overlooked and never taken time to appreciate which he would do anything to see again.

"I wish you were still here. There was so much we could have done together, so much of life left to experience..." He sighed and whipped a stray tear away "I don't want to do this alone... I can't do this alone... I need you Phil..." He choked back a sob as he thought of what would happen now.

He hadn't really put much thought into what he would do next, he'd hardly even touched a computer, he hadn't even told their subscribers Phil had passed away yet he just couldn't bring himself to tell them so had just left all their social media accounts silent for the last 4 months leading to speculation and theories of why. Had they given up? Were they in an accident? the internet still didn't know.

"What do I do Phil?..." A strong gust of wind blew his overgrown hair into his face "I need to tell them... I'm just not strong enough..." A thought suddenly came up making him worry even more " What if I do and they're angry I didn't tell them sooner? What if they hate me now..." 

He sighed and looked over at the picture, it was just one of those times they went to take a picture for Instagram but decided against it and kept it for themselves and left it gathering figurative dust in his camera roll.

The rain had calmed a little, digressing into a light shower and parting the grey clouds slightly allowing the light reflected onto the moon to illuminate the cemetery for a brief moment and in that brief moment he swore he saw the ghost of Phil sitting atop the stone looking down at him  with longing etched onto his almost translucent face but before he could properly register what he saw it was gone.

"Wait..." He choked out, reaching towards where he saw him but grasping at nothing. With no one around to give him a reason to at least try to remain composed he broke down crying into the palms of his hands still wishing for Phil to still be with him.

He stood up again with shaky legs, pulling his hood back up and placing the ruined flowers by the headstone and sighing.

"I love you too" He said aloud in a way that would have usually attracted attention to himself had it not been 3 am before slowly trudging back to the wall, climbing back over and heading back to his empty, uneasily quiet apartment.

Phil's room was still exactly as he had left it, down to the exact placement of every little thing on his drawers and random t-shirts pilled up on the floor which he 'meant to tidy up'. Just the mention of his name could make him cry and any picture of him could send him into a complete mental breakdown so seeing the room was a lot.

The entire house didn't feel like a home anymore, it had an uncomfortable vibe of something missing, or more accurately, someone missing.

His phone still sat untouched and turned off on the table, a layer of dust gathered on the cold screen. He begrudgingly picked it up and turned it on. 57 missed calls, 138 new messages and 26 voicemails as well as an abundance of concerned Twitter, Instagram, Youtube and Tumblr notifications.

He simply ignored them all and went to Twitter, deciding it was the best place to announce something like this other than a video that he just wasn't in the right state to record so he settled with a tweet.

The words just weren't coming to him, everything he typed just felt wrong and not meaningful enough. The message he sent simply read 'I'm sorry' before he turned off his phone again and simply lay staring straight up at the ceiling hoping for a miracle to happen.

But knowing full well it won't get any better.

 


End file.
